Wisdom's longevity was incredible. He was past his peak when the Carry On films were fresh. He was Charlie Chaplin's favourite clown, for goodness' sake. He even made Barry Cryer seem young.

And now he's gone. The absence won't be immediately noticeable, at least not to the younger generation, who are less familiar with his successes in films such as Trouble in Store in 1953, or A Stitch in Time in 1963, than they are tickled by his apparent godlike status in Albania, of all places.

But never more so than in his 1950s and 1960s peak, when he, far more so than most of today's standup megastars, had the world at his feet.

He was mobbed on holiday in Moscow in 1963. In the early 1970s, he was personally invited by Mao on a month-long tour of China.

And in Communist Albania, where his were the only western films shown under the regime of Enver Hoxha, he was given freedom of the city of Tirana and had an orphanage named after his cinematic alter ego, Norman Pitkin.

America temporarily resisted his charms. But when Wisdom turned semi-serious, he won praise for the 1968 movie The Night They Raided Minsky's (directed by William Friedkin, who later made The Exorcist).

By then, his comic career was on the wane. Latterly, he lamented the decline of slapstick: "Comedians just don't get that kind of training these days."

He might have been gratified to know that the breakout comedy act at this year's Edinburgh Fringe, New Zealand's The Boy with Tape on His Face, brilliantly reimagines physical routines of the type with which the tripping, gurning Wisdom made his name.

• This article was amended on 5 October 2010. The original stated that when Wisdom turned semi-serious with The Night They Raided Minsky's, he was nominated for an Oscar. This has been corrected.